


Curly Purring

by aliencupcake



Category: Original Work
Genre: Catboys & Catgirls, F/F, Magic, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliencupcake/pseuds/aliencupcake
Summary: Marcy takes a stray cat home and gets quite the surprise.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Icie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icie/gifts).



Umbrellas always broke or vanished when there was rain. It was a universal law, just like missing the bus home was a universal law. The next one wasn’t going to arrive for another half an hour, by which time Marcy expected to have already drowned in the growing puddle… or melted from being such a hot mess. If people could drown in their bathtubs, Marcy could see herself drowning in a puddle.

Since that would be an unprintably stupid cause of death for an obituary, Marcy decided to walk home. The route wasn’t what anyone would call safe, but standing out in the open at the bus stop wasn’t so much safer that Marcy would have the patience to wait.

The rain merrily continued to fall, even when Marcy scowled at the gray skies. Marcy had a friend who swore she knew the weather spirits, which did Marcy no good because _she_ didn’t know how to get in touch.

“I love you, too.”

The rain did not respond to that, either. Maybe if she sent some chocolates and a card with a teddy bear on it. Did weather spirits like teddy bears? 

Having no better plan, Marcy set off for home. Thinking of chocolates made her retrieve a candy bar from her backpack. If she had to walk home in the rain, she could at least have a--soon to be wet, probably--snack. The first bite of it (white chocolate, which did _so_ count as chocolate, with rainbow birthday-cake sprinkles) almost made up for the rain and the aquatic obstacle course.

As she walked, Marcy played soggy hopscotch, trying not to hit the deepest part of each puddle. It was a marvel of engineering and inattention to infrastructure that so much of the sidewalk was flooded. At least none of the puddles hit back.

Trying to eat chocolate and stay dry required focus and coordination, leaving Marcy so focused on her task that she had only half a second to register the attack. Without time to do anything else, Marcy focused her will and enchanted her partially eaten candy.

Jets of malevolent water whistled through the air as Marcy threw the makeshift weapon, now faintly glowing.

Her projectile hit its mark, causing the water to explode in a pastel-rainbow burst of light like airborne fireworks. Although now rendered harmless, the remains of the attack puddle showered down on Marcy, and for a moment she was left suffering two separate flavors of precipitation. “Seriously?” she mumbled.

She wanted to have _words_ with whomever or whatever had left that attack puddle behind. Spell wars had left odd magical effects in the area, and crews were still working to defuse all of them. Sometimes they missed things, like attack puddles.

Already on high alert, Marcy reacted instantly when she heard a high-pitched noise from somewhere. She grabbed for her backpack, hoping to yank out a better spell focus, when she saw that the noise came from a bedraggled black cat.

“Hi?”

The cat meowed in response. Like everything else on the street, it was an extraordinarily wet meow.

“You’re a cat.” Marcy knelt down beside the cat, who probably didn’t need to be told what species it was. Upon looking at the cat more closely, she saw it had curly hair.

The cat meowed again, then stared at the spot where the attack puddle had been.

“There’s nothing there. Not even the chocolate I paid too much for that got vaporized.” Chocolate outweighed financial responsibility, even when it got used as a magical projectile.

“ _Mew._ ” The cat decided to poke at Marcy’s knee.

“I don’t have any more chocolate. I don’t care how cute you are; I wouldn’t poison you anyway. Your big golden eyes mean nothing to me.”

“ _Mew._ ”

Hoping to learn the kitty’s name from a tag of some kind, Mercy looked at the cat’s neck--only to realize, “Oh hell, you have no collar.”

The cat chirruped, as if it were happy about its lack of adornment. For a potentially feral cat, it was rather friendly.

“Should I take you home and find out if you belong to anyone?”

The cat rubbed its head against Marcy’s leg and let out another strangely cheerful chirrup.

“This is a terrible idea. Please don’t turn into a puddle and try to kill me.” 

Marcy tried to pick the cat up. It let her.

“Yep, this is a terrible idea.”

At least Marcy wasn’t trying to carry home an attack puddle in an area with unexpected magical activity. Black cats were safer. That thing about them being bad luck was outdated propaganda anyway. If this cat turned out to be a demon or something, coat color would have nothing to do with it.

* * *

Marcy began to suspect something was odd about the cat, which she determined was female, when she attempted to dry her off with a blow dryer and received no protest. Most cats would have run away at the noise, and Marcy briefly wondered how well this one could hear, though she had turned her ears towards the noise of the blow dryer.

She said, “Is this some kind of prank? Are you a shapeshifting water demon with a weirdo form?”

While her apartment building allowed cats, it required a special--and horrifyingly expensive-- monthly fee if you wanted to keep certain classes of magical being as pets. Marcy also vaguely recalled that even if she’d owned her own home, most states required special licenses in order to keep some kinds of creatures.

When Marcy had finished bathing the hopefully-not-a-pricey-demon cat and the cat had dried off, she was impressed to see that her guest had apparently doubled in size now that her fur was no longer drenched with rainwater. She asked, “Do you have a name? I can’t just call you Fluffy because the cliche police would arrest me.”

The cat, of course, ignored her question in favor of leaping onto Marcy’s lap, where she became a loaf of curly purring. Marcy quickly decided curly purring was superior to ordinary purring; when she petted the cat, she found her soft fur was the perfect level of floofy.

Alas, such perfection could not last long in the world. Without warning, the cat disappeared in a burst of golden light.

Someone said, “Oops.”

That voice didn’t belong to Marcy, but to the naked catgirl now sprawled across Marcy’s lap. In place of floofy black fur, she had dramatic curves and dark olive-toned skin. The fluffy black tail remained, longer, fluffier and a thousand times more distracting, almost as much as the whole “curvy naked woman on her lap” problem. The catgirl’s hair was longer than Marcy’s and as curly as her fur, a contrast Marcy’s perfectly straight black hair. The cat ears remained more or less the same except for being attached to a very, very unclothed humanoid.

“What happened to my cat?” That was the first thing Marcy could think to say. As much magical weirdness as she’d encountered, a phenomenon that spontaneously generated naked catgirls was just disconcerting.

“I am your cat.” The catgirl sounded upbeat and utterly unconcerned with the situation. Her voice had a hint of a purr in it, throatier than Marcy’s own.

“You’re a person.”

“A catperson.”

“A naked catperson.”

“How does my nudity make me not your cat? I can still purr.” The catgirl demonstrated this ability without getting off Marcy’s lap, and her rumbling vibrations did not convince Marcy that the catgirl was still the cat she’d decided was hers. 

Marcy felt her face flush. “You’re still naked.” As with real cats, she was finding that catgirls prevented ordinary humans like herself from stringing together coherent sentences.

“I know.”

“It’s kind of suggestive.”

“I know that, too.”

“Do you have a name?” Marcy managed to ask, in a futile attempt to distract herself from the naked catgirl.

Those with feline traits loved to mess with humans, and the catgirl proved it by sitting up, providing even more distraction. Her golden slit-pupil eyes shone in the light of the apartment, and Marcy wondered if such perfectly round breasts were a catgirl thing or just a sign Marcy needed to get out and get laid more. Her own breasts were almost nonexistent, which she usually enjoyed except for now when she had a catgirl in her apartment who wouldn’t fit into any of her clothes. Offering a shirt to get rid of the distraction might take some scrambling through her closet, or maybe Marcy could just give the catgirl a bathrobe.

“You can call me Rain because it was raining when I met you and I can’t tell you my real name or I’d have to claw your heart out,” the catgirl--now Rain--said. “Do you have a name?”

“Marcy. Is there a reason you decided to turn into a catgirl?”

Rain flipped her bouncy hair and said, “I was always a catgirl. I turned into a cat. But I was lost and wet, and you were also wet though not lost, and I like humans sometimes. When they’re nice.”

“If you were lost, do you need help getting home?”

“Eventually. But I like your apartment. And you’re cute. Later you can help me get home if you want.” Rain swished her tail, her cat ears pointing forward towards Marcy.

Marcy squeaked, growing hot enough she would have started steaming had she still been out in the rain. “I’ll help,” she said, pushing aside remembered warnings about trusting strange magical creatures. She had alarm spells in her apartment that guarded against true magical danger, sensing certain types of magical signatures, and none of those alarms had gone off.

Rain said unhelpfully, “But now I want to kiss you. So can I do that, because you keep sitting there being cute and not every human will let me into their apartment?”

With much charm and grace, Marcy squeaked again. She bit her lip to avoid yet another squeak, and her eyes drifted down to the tuft of hair on Rain’s pussy. The feline terminology made Marcy let out a giggle because, well, there was a catgirl in her apartment.

Before Marcy could let herself sound entirely unhinged, she kissed Rain, even daring to reach up and pet one of her furry ears. Rain rewarded her by purring, and staying on the shabby couch sounded like an increasingly terrible idea. In addition, Marcy decided she had on way too many clothes.

Marcy pulled away just enough to say, “We should go somewhere more comfortable.”

“Yep.” Rain’s voice was a purr.

There was a reason Marcy had always been a cat person.


End file.
